


This old cowboy's hat

by motherlucius



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Closure, Emotional Hurt, Epilogue Spoilers, John ):, Multi, Period Typical Attitudes, cannon complient, contains spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-24 16:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17708147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherlucius/pseuds/motherlucius
Summary: Feelings John does not have the words to explain have been nagging at him for years--feelings as applied to Arthur Morgan. He needs to lay them to rest.





	1. Chapter 1

John had kissed Abigail before he left, his smile big and goofy. “I promise I won’t be longer than a couple days,” He had said. His saddlebags--packed with survival gear--were slung over his shoulder, he had rolled up a winter coat that rest under his arm. “But if I ain’t, don’t worry.” 

Abigail gave a light smile. “I always worry about you, John Marston.” She moved her hand away from his face. “I trust you ain’t gonna do anything stupid.” 

John could scoff. He walked off the porch and made sure everything was strapped down on his horse. He gave the mare a treat. 

“Oh, and John?” Abigail asked. He saddled up, glancing at her. “Give Arthur my regards.” 

John smiled sadly. “Of course. I’ll be back soon,” He pulled the reins on his mare, and rode away from Breacher’s Hope. He tried to remember the last time he had been in Valentine, and the somewhat sour memory of being run out by Cornwall resurfaced. Arthur saved his life that day, like he had many times before. John wished he could have saved his. He wished he had dragged Arthur off that mountain, encouraging him to keep fighting the black lung. It was a heavy regret he had kept close throughout the years. 

He hoped this visit to Arthur’s grave would release some of those grievances; John couldn’t change the past, only look ahead. 

It was getting dark once John reached Valentine. He hitched his horse outside the saloon, deciding to have a couple drinks to ease his dreary mind. He sat at the bar, and waited patiently for the bartender to serve him. He stared blankly at the drinks lined up on the opposite wall. Then he heard a voice speak up next to him. 

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” The man said. John turned his head. It was a man dressed in military attire. He had one arm, and an aged face. John knew almost immediately he was a veteran. 

“Maybe, I’ve been all over,” John said, a bit uneasy but not untrusting or dishonest. “I was through here a long time ago, friend.” 

The veteran seemed to contemplate. “Yeah, yeah you ran with that fella. What was his name?” His eyebrows creased as he tried to remember. 

“Arthur?” John tried. 

“Yes, that was him,” The stranger smiled. “He was always so kind to me. He talked to me every time he came through, made this old man’s heart smile.” 

John relaxed. “Yeah, he had that effect on people. He wanted to help everyone.” 

“Tell me, where is he today? I hope he is doing well.” 

John felt a hard stab in his rib cage, could he really tell this man the truth? The bartender approached, and John ordered himself and the veteran whiskey. “I’m sorry. Arthur died years ago,” John felt his throat close at the words. “He was very sick.” 

The veteran’s face fell. “Oh…” 

John apologized again. He began to wonder how many other people lived on who had been touched by Arthur’s unwavering kindness. They didn’t need to know, John decided. 

“Well, here’s to your friend,” The veteran raised his drink. “Who I’m sure you were close to.” 

“Like you wouldn’t imagine,” John raised his drink as well, and they savored it together. He stood up, leaving a few dollars for the bartender. “It was good to meet you, sir,” He said. 

“You as well… What was your name?” 

John paused. If it was anyone else, he would say  _ Jim Milton _ , but thought twice. “John Marston.” 

“Mickey,” The veteran sat his empty glass down and offered his hand. John gave him a firm handshake, said his farewells, and was on his way. 

John went north of town and rode in the moonlight. He stopped after a while, and set up camp. He always preferred a night under the stars over a dingy hotel room. John ate some smoked venison Abigail had carefully packed for him, and he felt a conflict brew within him again. He loved Abigail now, he loved their son, and he loved their home he had built for her. But he knew it wasn’t always that way, and he began to wonder…Those feelings, he could not find the language for. They were strange, and directed at Arthur--even if he was long gone, never to return. 

John took the hat off his head, looking at it. It was Arthur’s of course, so was the satchel and the journal and almost everything John held close to him. He began to wonder why he couldn’t  _ let go. _ He had everything going for him now--a wife, a kid, an annoying lazy ranch hand, a decent plot of land in a decent part of the country… But so many things were left unspoken, things that John didn’t have the words for. 


	2. Chapter 2

“I buried him on top of a hill, facing west,” Charles had said. While this was vague, he had been kind enough to draw a small map for John. He had thanked his friend, but was unsure he would even be  _ able  _ to visit Arthur’s grave. Now, he was in pretty much the same boat. John didn’t know how he would react, because up until this point he had felt numb. Now, he led his horse up the rocky trail--passed the odd Hill House, and onto an outlook. The view was beautiful, he could see from the Cumberland Forest to Big Valley, with the Grizzlies as a snow capped backdrop and beyond. He wondered if Arthur had seen this while he was alive. 

John dropped the reins of his horse, allowing her to graze while he paid his respects. At first, he didn’t see the grave marker, and for a fleeting moment he worried if this was the wrong spot--but then he saw it, a white cross and circle slightly blended in with the gray rock behind it. 

_ Arthur Morgan _

_ \-- _

_ Blessed are those who hunger _

_ And thirst for righteousness _

John kneeled down, he took the hat off his head and placed it over his chest. His mind ran a million miles an hour, but not a single thought was processed. A wave of dread washed over him, and for the first time in years, he cried. John bent his head and let the tears fall freely. 

After a few moments of silence, he sat back, putting Arthur’s hat on his head again. “I’m sorry,” He whispered. “I’m sorry you never had a chance. I… I wish you could be hear. I wish you could see the ranch, Abigail, Jack. Its selfish, but I wish you were by my side.” 

John wiped under his eyes, he took a deep breath. Out on the horizon, storm clouds brewed, and John didn’t want to leave. He wanted to bury himself next to Arthur, at the off chance he would see him again. Religion was never something John cared about, he knew there wasn’t a god--not one that would allow a man like Arthur Morgan to die--but he began to wish there was one. 

He took out Arthur’s journal. John’s drawings were not as pretty as his had been, but he wanted to leave one last entry. He sketched Arthur’s grave marker, and wrote on one of the last pages: 

_ I think I finally figured out what has been nagging me all of these years… Arthur never had a chance at anything good, and if he did, it never lasted. I’m so grateful for him, yet I selfishly yearn for him to ride through Breacher’s Hope one day. I don’t want to believe he is truly gone, and I wonder if that’s what it’s like to lose someone you love.  _

John closed the journal, made sure it was bound tight. Originally, he was going to leave it here, but… 

But then he put it back in his satchel. As he left, he still felt like he hadn’t let go. And maybe he never would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost couldn't finish this, I'm a bit of a baby and ugly cried as I wrote (,:   
> Let me know your thoughts, kudos and comments are deeply appreciated, as it lets me know if I should write similar content! I thought about writing some sort of prequel to this (even though its just a one-off) and making a mini-series of it. Thank you for reading, boahs xx

**Author's Note:**

> Second part coming soon (:


End file.
